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#he would still refuse to outright be a jedi in any of those AUs
menaceborn · 8 months
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redeemed au ayru being put partly in charge of teaching clones infiltration techniques and shit... hand-to-hand and close quarters combat... spy shit
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reynesofcastamere · 4 years
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Thrown Gauntlet[Ω]
(A/N: Sooooo....I’ve decided to start another series of fics that I will be marking with [Ω] in the titles: To disinguish them from both the main series (which I am still working on) and the [β] drabbles (which are all over the place in terms of timeline, setting, universe, etc.). Essentially a very self-indulgent AU where Savage, Maul, and Feral all get adopted by Clan Wren. This installment takes place in 20 BBY, so Ahsoka is around 16 and Maul is about 34. However. I want to state outright that the dynamic is intended to be a verrrrry slow build and that nothing romantic and/or sexual will be occurring between Maul and Ahsoka until MUCH later. If what I’ve described does not sound like your personal cup of tea, then by all means, feel free to give this fic and/or series a pass. This is getting a bit long, so to sum up: No trigger warnings, Obi-Wan is an Incurable Flirt, Rex is Flustered, and Maul is about 100% Done With Everyone’s Nonsense. Unbeta’d)  The Jedi Temple is buzzing. Not literally, of course, but Ahsoka can feel a strange vibration in the Force. Excitement, or maybe irritation? There’s definitely quite a bit more whispering amongst her fellow Jedi and the clone troopers she passes on her path to the east hangar. Master Anakin had told her to pack for a long trip, which she can only assume means they’ve been assigned another mission and he’s withholding the details so as to ‘surprise’ her appropriately. Typical Skyguy.
She spots Rex near the door, sans helmet. “Good morning, Captain.” A proper salute, quickly returned, though her tone is light. “Morning, Commander. And-er, yes, it certainly is.” He actually seems to be fidgeting a bit, and his face- “Rex, are you...blushing?” “N-no. No. Just-ah...Finished up my workout routine. Took more out of me than I expected. You know how it is; One day you’re all shiny-new and the next you feel older than General Yoda.” “Reeeeexxxx....Come on, whatever it is can’t be that bad.”
“The Clawbirds arrived about an hour ago. Captain Wren’s refusing to do much of anything until he finishes repairs on General Skywalker’s ship.” Rex caves, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Master Anakin can’t be too happy about that.” Ahsoka observes, knowing just how...particular he is about his personal projects. “Should I be worried?” “Er...maybe? It’s kind of a toss-up. Depends on whether M-” He begins, before a subtler voice cuts in. “Captain, there you are. I was hoping to speak to you.” The speaker is a male Zabrak with soft golden-yellow eyes and skin, the latter of which is liberally patterned in brown markings. Unusual enough, but he’s also clad in full Mandalorian armor, helmet tucked under one arm and carrying what looks like field medic gear along with the standard jetpack and arsenal of weapons. And he’s glowing; a defined Force signature radiating Light and positive energy like a solar lamp. How-? “Medic Sergeant Wren. They are still getting along, right?” “Oh yes. He’s in a much better mood than last time. Apologies, am I interrupting?” “Thank the Maker. And no, um. Commander Tano, this is Medic Sergeant Feral Wren.” Rex looks like he’s in danger of heatstroke with how red he’s gotten. It’s not hard to see why, especially when Feral gives a smile that could melt half the ice on Bahryn. Rather than salute her, he stretches his right hand out so that they can clasp forearms briefly, a greeting from one warrior to another. “It’s a pleasure, Medic Sergeant.” She smiles back. Ahsoka can’t help it. He’s just...She’s fighting the urge to hug him like some kind of stuffed animal toy. Which is bizarre and will most definitely not be happening anytime soon. “Tano...Oh, you must be ‘Snips’. It’s almost a shame Savage volunteered to help the younglings train, we’ve both wanted to meet you for some time now.” Wait, what? “Tranyc’vod [Sunny(star-burned) brother] Anakin hasn’t been able to call as often, but he’s very proud of your accomplishments.” Feral remarks, genuinely pleased even as her head spins with the implications. Her Master has a lot of explaining to do. “Speaking of which, I’d better not keep him waiting much longer. I look forward to talking to you again, though. See you later, Captain. Maybe you should ask the Medic Sergeant about those stamina issues you’re having?” She can’t resist ribbing Rex as she departs, watching him splutter as Feral, like any good medic, starts making inquiries about his ‘condition’ while looking him over. And placing a hand on his chestplate, apparently. Huh. Maybe her friend’s obvious crush isn’t quite as one-sided as she’d thought. Ahsoka navigates her way through the semi-organized rows of ships. Even if Anakin’s presence in the Force wasn’t abnormally strong, she doesn’t need to focus to find him. Not when he’s talking loud enough to be heard across half the hangar. “-last time, it’s fine! You’re just being paranoid, as usual.” “Every ship I have been forced to borrow from you has either crashed, suffered a critical malfunction, or was confined to the scrap heap mere hours after landing. No one is setting a foot on this poorly-constructed death trap until I am absolutely certain it won’t spontaneously combust mid-flight.” And that must be Captain Wren. He sounds...irritated, to say the least.
“My ships run perfectly, thanks. Must hurt that Mando pride, knowing a Jedi is a better pilot and mechanic than you, Captain.” She’s not quite within visual range yet, but she knows her Master is smirking. “How sad that as a Jedi, you cannot recognize your own failings, General. Perhaps you should conduct a survey of your ‘victims’ instead of this poor attempt at distraction. Mir’osik adiik be’kyorla hut’uun![Dung for brains child of (a) rotten coward!]-” “Ouch. What, did one of your horns get caught in the hydraulics?” “Hilarious. Make yourself useful by grabbing a towel, or something from Kenobi’s closet. I’m coming out.” “Ah, Captain Wren. I thought the general ambience had improved. What were you saying about my clothing?” She hadn’t been aware of Master Kenobi’s presence before this. Either he’d used a secondary entrance or had been waiting for his chance to join the exchange while the captain was busy. “Kenobi.”
“Oh come now, surely you can muster a more polite greeting than that. You’ve been away so long I’ve had to listen to recordings just to remember the sound of your lovely voice.” “Perhaps I will address you with respect when you learn to stop leering at me, besom [ill-mannered lout].” “Busted. Again.” “You’re not helping, Anakin.” Ahsoka rounds a corner and-Oh. Wow. How far down do those-? She blinks a few times, just to be sure of what she’s seeing. Yep, there is a very shirtless Zabrak with the kind of muscle definition that would make scores of artists weep standing with his back to her and wiping his face off with a towel. She desperately hopes that her jaw is not hanging open as he turns his head to survey her with one vibrant yellow tourmaline eye. She honestly doesn’t know if she wants to draw closer or back away in that moment. His presence in the Force is not a benevolent, harmless light, but rather a controlled fire that sparks and issues dark threads of smoke. This...Ahsoka doesn’t understand what is going on, and it’s starting to make her uncomfortable. “The spy finally shows herself.” He remarks, assessing and dismissing her as a non-threat within the span of a few seconds, continuing to wipe off whatever type of mess had been spattered on him. “Don’t mind him, Snips. Someone shoved a shock baton up his ass years ago and the medics never found a way to pull it out. Tragic, really.” Anakin Skywalker grins, arms loosely folded across his chest and leaning against the outside of his ship. “Ahsoka, this is Maul. We’ll be working with him and his people for the forseeable future.” It clicks suddenly where she’s heard both his name and that of his group before: Captain Maul of Clan Wren and his company are the only Mandalorian supercommandos who will actually work with the Jedi Council. At least, when they’re not busy with bodyguard or mercenary jobs. Part of that involves what is referred to -with some awe and a lot of fear- as ‘running the gauntlet’, a mandatory training course for any Padawans or Knights posted to or intending to spend a considerable amount of time in the barely-civilized regions of space. It’s been suspended since the war started in earnest, but if they’re going to be sticking around for a while...Well, the implications are pretty serious. And Ahsoka has somehow managed to ogle one of the most infamous hardasses this side of the Mid Rim. Fantastic. Really. Maul disposes of the stained towel and turns to face her properly, Ahsoka’s gaze staying determinedly on his face as they grip each other’s right forearms. He doesn’t pull back after a few seconds as Feral had, hand locking in place as he seems to peer into her soul.  “I will say this once. We are not like our evaar’la vod’e[young brothers]. We are not subservient to you, and I do not accept excuses or blatant disrespect.” A pause and a slight increase in pressure, just below the threshold of inflicting pain. “Are you ready, Ahsoka Tano?” “Yes, Captain.” She answers with a certainty that she can feel in her very bones, and is rewarded with the hint of a wry smile when he lets go. Well that’s...something. Master Kenobi clears his throat pointedly. Right. Mission briefing first. Sort out her feelings later. Still, she can’t help but look forward to whatever comes next. (A/N: *cracks knuckles* Well, that’s the first installment. A little vague on the details, but I’m hoping to elaborate on what’s been hinted at here relatively soon. The name of the supercommando company comes from the Legends novel Maul:Lockdown by Joe Schreiber. And yes, for fellow Rebels fans who are reading this thing: In this AU, Sabine and Tristan get three badass Zabrak-hybrid uncles and a fair amount of adopted cousins. (Which is entirely Savage’s doing.) I do believe that Anakin is a gifted mechanic, but also couldn’t resist the running joke of ‘Skywalker’s ships/anything he tinkers with only work for him and Artoo’. Cheers!) 
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levitatingbiscuits · 5 years
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Y'all I genuinely don't believe that Anakin could ever have a true happy ending with his family
During his marriage to Padme, they literally never spent more than a few weeks at a time together. The longest time they spent with each other was most likely when Anakin was acting as her bodyguard in AotC (during which he loses his mother, a limb, and commits a horrific mass murder so like... he had a lot of shit going on). Then he's fighting in a war and training a padawan and generally only getting a few stolen days/weeks with her every couple of months. Did they ever argue? Or even just deal with a conflict together? Because the first time we ever see her disagree with him he chokes her out despite her being nine months pregnant and him having reoccurring nightmares about her inevitable demise.
I honestly believe that Anakin would have ended up becoming an abuser. Their relationship has all the classic warning signs: begins with him putting her on an impossibly high pedestal, basically using her as his therapist for all his emotional issues, getting into jealous rages when she spends time with other men, being dangerously codependent, and then getting violent when she ever "defies" him.
The only reason they lasted as long as they did is Padme's enabling behavior. She tells him they can't be together then immediately gets with him despite the ethical concerns, tells him it's totally ok that he murdered a bunch of children despite her being a senator and thus supposed to hold people accountable to the rule of law, and is in total denial about him murdering MORE innocent children despite her being the only person that knows about his penchant for massacres, and even when she confronts him she doesn't get mad or yell, she just weeps. I subscribe to the theory that Anakin was subconsciously and continuously mind tricking her because I don't think a senator as accomplished and dedicated to democracy and justice as her would EVER overlook the crimes Anakin confessed to her. But I'm also REALLY concerned that the enabling behavior would have continued even if they raised their children together.
Let's face it: Anakin has a disturbing proclivity towards hurting/killing the weak and innocent when he's not being kept in check by the Jedi Order. People love to blame the council for all his issues, but at least they tried to hold him accountable for his actions and when he was under their direct observation he never hurt anyone as badly as he did on Tattooine until Palpatine convinced him to attack and kill Mace Windu.
Anakin is VERY possessive of, and consistently violent towards, his loved ones (which is what attachment, NOT love, usually leads to). Even when he learns Luke is his son, he has no qualms about slicing off his hand, then gives him the imperial elevator pitch while he's clinging to a metal walkway with a still-smoking stump. When he learns he has a daughter, he immediately uses her to further psychologically torture poor Luke. It takes a few minutes of Palpatine outright torturing his child in front of him for him to intervene.
I know a lot of that was Sidious's grooming, but I'd say that it was already too late when he massacred the sand people. You can't trust someone like that to raise a child. And considering his violence towards people as sweet and placating as Padme and Luke, I SHUDDER to think about what he would do to Leia.
Leia is the person he hurts the most out of anyone, by far. He almost seems to take a sick sort of pleasure in causing her pain. He terrorizes her, tortures her repeatedly, forces her to watch the instantaneous genocide of her people, forces her to watch the man she loves get tortured, and THEN forces her to watch as he's frozen in carbonite and sold to a crime lord with a grudge. Like holy fuck did he have it out for her, which I think came from him trying to crush her stubbornly rebellious spirit. Vader must get a kick out of it, because it's all horrifically personal.
Now imagine Anakin dealing with a rebellious daughter who refuses to obey him. I'm not saying he'd do all that, but if he has the capacity to massacre children just for being in the same village as the people who killed his mom, or choke out his pregnant wife despite believing she could die at any minute, or any of that other shit, I could DEFINITELY see him becoming an abusive parent. And if Padme was willing to overlook cold-blooded mass murder, she could probably do the same for child abuse.
Basically the only thing that would have truly saved Anakin would be to have Palpatine removed from the equation entirely, and then years upon years of therapy. Palpatine laid the groundwork, but all of those choices were solely Anakin's own, and I really don't think even leaving the order to start a happy family like in the fluff AUs could change that. My ideal would be him never meeting Palpatine at all, or at least Padme turning him in in AotC so he could spend a few decades in prison and a few more in intensive therapy (ideally with both Jedi AND non-Jedi therapists so that he can learn to use his power for good without becoming a resentful, repressed mess again).
Basically Anakin was doomed from the moment he chose to kill all the sand people.
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threadsketchier · 4 years
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Ok but what would have happened if Luke had succeeded in killing Vader to the wishes of Obi wan and Yoda prior to finding out he’s his dad? Bye bye Jedi Order for good?
yeah, that...that would not have been good
Reasonably, the only way this could have happened is if Luke actually completed his Jedi training to their satisfaction before ever confronting Vader - Vader is horrifically skilled and utterly ruthless in combat, though how they could have fought without Vader managing to spill the beans at some point to stop Luke in his tracks is questionable, but I digress.  Let’s go with the hypothetical flow and say that somehow Luke did manage to defeat and kill Vader in total ignorance.  (What about the Emperor in this scenario?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )
I think the revelation would break him.  Break him far worse than what he went through at Bespin in canon.  Because at least that nightmare was still malleable - both of them were still alive, things could still go in a million directions.  If he killed his father, there’s no undoing that.  His faith in the Jedi Order might be irreparably shaken, as he’d realize that his teachers had knowingly kept him unaware of committing patricide.  What kind of institution would validate a person to kill their own parent, and how could he stomach carrying that on?
Now, Luke probably would’ve gotten the Attachment Talk in this AU, and...for better or for worse, it’s just not in the Skywalker blood to be unattached.  He’d be devastated and not able to frame his actions in the Jedi mindset of “family relationships are not above the greater good.”  This accomplishment would feel too hollow and bitter; he’d likely feel even worse about this than having had to pull the trigger on a million lives on the Death Star.  At least that was a straightforward battle.
I don’t know that Luke would completely write off all the Jedi teachings for good, but I speculate he might either shut down and refuse to pursue anything about them for many years until he managed some degree of healing and self-forgiveness, or he could become something of an Ahsoka figure, except darker and more self-loathing - because even though Obi-Wan and Yoda instructed him and kept the wool over his eyes, Luke would surely be blaming himself as well, for not asking more questions, for not listening to his gut instinct, etc. etc.
Hell, the whole thing might backfire and turn him into a Dark Sider where Palpatine himself couldn’t do it.  Good job guys.
Leia is an interesting variable in all this - she would’ve had no love for Vader if she’d been in Luke’s boots and she’d probably try to console her brother by insisting that his teachers were right, family means more than blood, Vader had no claim to him after fashioning himself into a mass murderer, Luke Did Nothing Wrong™.  I doubt it would’ve helped.  The fact that she was also lied to by her own adoptive parents likely wouldn’t disturb her as much given that she’d much rather have been raised by those loving people than remain in her biological father’s unhinged custody - and she’s equally valid for feeling that way.  Vader was a danger to his own children.  Having them as babies wouldn’t necessarily bring him back to the light any sooner.
Anyway, granting some advocacy to Obi-Wan and Yoda - though we’ll never know from the films, it’s possible that they wouldn’t have been outright dicks and informed Luke at the end of his training before he went off to face Vader.  Honestly, they’d likely want to gauge his comprehension and acceptance of non-attachment ahead of time, precisely because they’d know the risk of Vader being the one to tell him as soon as they met and how that would blow up in their faces.  They’d want to control all the variables.  Of course, the healthiest way they could’ve parsed this would’ve been, “Look, Vader’s your dad.  He murdered a whole bunch of kids along with who knows how many more of our order.  He hurt your mom while she was still preggers with you.  He’s awful and gives zero fucks about harming even those he once cared about.  Be prepared that he doesn’t give a shit about you and just wants a fate worse than death for you.  But we get it, he’s your dad, and if you can find a way to get through to him where we couldn’t, go for it.  Just know that in the end you can’t fall to the Dark Side and you can’t let him keep the Emperor in power, because otherwise the galaxy’s toast, OK?  So you might have to pull the trigger and put him out of his misery.  It sucks, we know, but we’re old and/or kinda dead?  So it’s up to you, kiddo.”
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galactic-emo-kid · 6 years
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Verse: Fangs of a wolf & claws of a dragon
“Because when it comes to my offspring, I will fight with the fangs of a wolf and the claws of a dragon. And no one, or nothing, will stop me from protecting them.”
The Down and Dirty Version: When Breha Solo ‘fell from grace’ as it were, she was not only engaged to Poe Dameron, but carrying his child as well. Something she didn’t know until Snoke offered her, and her child, a place in the First Order. He knew, as so many did, that the easiest way to manipulate someone was through their child. Offer her not only the truth she sought, but a better world for her son -- a world which her grandfather once envisioned (or so his story goes) -- and she would become the fiercest warrior he had.
And so Anakin Kes Dameron was born; named for his mother’s grandfather and his father’s father. Though he would only ever be called Anakin or “Ani” for the first part of his childhood. For while Breha spoke of Anakin’s father, it was always vague. Just of the man she loved; a man, who, unfortunately was no longer in her life.
That is, until Poe Dameron was picked up on Jakku...
The Longer Version: Beware. There are POSSIBLE SPOILERS APLENTY.
Bloodline Though Leia tried, her message arrived too late and Breha found out about her paternal grandfather via the Holonet. Unable to believe that her mother (and uncle) kept something like that from her, Breha felt betrayed. Hurt. Angry. And these feelings only intensified upon hearing her mother’s words. Her excuses. She lashed out. And in lashing out, released a surge of raw energy unlike any she had done before. The temple she was currently inhabiting was destroyed. And a few of the other Padawans died. Horrified, Breha tried to explain to her uncle. Tried to tell him that it was an accident. But Luke wouldn’t listen. He told the girl to leave. Leave or he would kill her.
The In-between Times With Breha exiled from the Jedi; her teacher (and uncle) having rejected her, Snoke saw his chance. He approached the girl that he had, until now, been watching from a far and offered her a place in the First Order. Offered to complete her training. And offered protection for her...and her unborn child. Up until that moment, Breha had no idea she was pregnant. That she was carrying Poe Dameron’s child. She wasn’t surprised. And really, it made sense. (Later it would be discovered that part of her power surge at the temple that night was her son’s force signature merging with her own). Convinced she was no longer welcome in her family, she agreed.
And Kylo Ren was born.
A few months later, someone else was born as Anakin Kes Dameron (or Ani) came into the world.
Force Awakens By the time the events of the Force Awakens occur, Ani is six. His own force abilities starting to gain strength. When on Starkiller Base, she keeps her son close to her. Determined to have the time for him, her parents never had for her. But on the occasions she is needed elsewhere, Ani is left in the care of nanny droids (and sometimes Hux and/or Phasma). 
On Jakku, Poe is still captured and brought to base. However, he is not tortured. Instead, Breha uses the existence of their son (something Poe had not known) to try and get the pilot to cave, turn on the resistance and fight at her side instead. Leaving him alone to “contemplate”, Breha exists and Finn rescues him. Poe now gets the fun honor of informing General Organa she’s a grandmother.
While on Starkiller Base, Breha goes without her mask. Though it makes her feel closer to her grandfather, it puts a distance between she and her son. She will not have that.
Of course, as she gets more and more frustrated at being thwarted, her son learns more and more fun new things. Like the phrase “skrogging scavenger schutta”. (Later on, those will come back to haunt her). And yes, Ani is also prone to force tantrums. A general rule on the base is to not upset the little prince, lest one has to suffer his and Lady Ren’s temper.
When it comes to the end of Force Awakens, there are a few different ways the storyline can go. In a canon-setting, Ani remains behind when Breha goes to meet her father and then Finn and Rey. When she returns hurt, he’s upset. Wanting to know if she is okay. Does she need bacta. Or perhaps a space bandaid, he gets those sometimes.
In AU type verses, it’s possible Han lives. Not confronting Breha as he does in canon, but instead concentrating on extracting his grandson from the base. Knowing where he goes, his daughter will follow. This is also sometimes paired with Chewie confronting Breha. Injuring her enough so that she cannot force attack and then picking her up and carting her off. Cause yep. Done now. Going home.
Last Jedi Right now this is all based on speculation and the Reddit Leak. This may change come the movie.
Ani is clearly not present during the Battle of D’Qar. And Breha does hesitate, unable to outright kill her mother. It is something she is scolded for later. Punished for by Snoke as he wonders whether or not her son wouldn’t be a better student.
That, for her, is a breaking point. Her son is off limits. She is becoming disillusioned with the First Order and with Snoke. 
When she and Rey connect over a vision she realizes Rey is with her uncle. And why she is not overly fond of the girl, she fears for her safety with Luke. He threatened to kill her once, why wouldn’t he kill Rey? She needs to find the girl and bring her to Snoke. Snoke will protect her and perhaps the gift of Rey will cause him to back off. She heads for the Island.
And succeeds in obtaining Rey -- showing her a vision of the night the temple was destroyed and the man Luke Skywalker truly was. Showing her how he failed her. And how he would fail Rey when the time came. Showing her visions of her son and how she is nowhere near the monster the others have painted her as. 
Something that is proved in Snoke’s throne room. Ordered to cut down Rey in order to complete her training, Breha refuses. And turns on Snoke, joining with Rey to strike down the guards. Of course, there is no victory as Snoke disappears and Luke arrives. Betraying that he has been in contact with Snoke this whole time.
Another battle and Luke escapes. Leaving the two girls to grab Ani and get the hell out of dodge -- and run right to the resistance. While not everyone is excited to see Breha (or even trusts her) there are at least two people who are. Poe and Leia.
Breha rushes to her mother’s side, telling her the truth of what had transpired. Telling her of Luke’s turn. It is then her mother makes her promise to bring Luke back. Redeem her as Luke once did Vader. A final promise before she dies.
Her mother gone, Breha goes to Poe, seeking comfort in his arms. And it is Breha and Poe along with Ani that are standing together at the end. Their family (now smaller) but reunited.
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sanerontheinside · 7 years
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feels
uuuuuum I can’t tell if I drifted thru povs however I felt like it, or if it counts as third-person omniscience, but I will say that having an actual panning camera image of the scene as you write it can be very annoying that way. 
also this is one of the only scenes I have written in full, and it’s been written for some months now, so I’m dropping it here in a moment of extremely questionable decision-making and doing my best not to question the fact that I just posted a major resolution point. 
then again, if this au ever gets written? by the time this scene comes up again it will either have changed significantly, or y’all won’t remember this ever happened, or both. so that’s not so bad. 
@deadcatwithaflamethrower​, @aidava​, hi I blame you for the frankenau
—note: Obi-Wan’s first mission as a Knight leaves him stranded on a planet being invaded and reclaimed by its neighbour world. eventually he does a successful blockade run, only to end up crashlanding on Tatooine. that is where Qui-Gon and Anakin find him. to skip over a lot more detail, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are eventually partnered again, and Anakin becomes their shared Padawan. Also Offworld subsidiaries reappear, which throws everyone for a loop. 
He awoke with his throat raw from a scream he couldn’t remember the reason for, which was frustrating. When the Force chose to make itself known, it wasn’t usually so skittish, but this time he had to go digging for the nightmare that had prompted this rude awakening.
“Obi-Wan?”
Shit. “Sorry, Qui-Gon. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He turned, and found himself staring across the encampment at a blearily blinking Jedi Master. Qui-Gon had propped himself up on one elbow on his pallet, his hair spilling over his shoulders in a sleep-tousled mess, deep blue eyes unfocused in the firelight. It was a surprisingly endearing sight, and Obi-Wan mustered an apologetic half-smile for waking him to cover the feeling of warmth he felt bloom in his chest.
“Bad dreams?” Qui-Gon asked, voice deep and sleep-roughened.
Obi-Wan bit his lip, gaze turning inward to finally track down the thread he’d nearly lost just now. “Bandomeer,” he said at last. “I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.”
“Offworld.” When he looked up again, Qui-Gon looked grieved. “Haven’t had to think about that in a long time.” He shifted, then gave Obi-Wan a shy look and raised the corner of his blanket in invitation.
Obi-Wan didn’t let himself think—simply got up, collecting his own blanket and draping it over his Master before settling in under his arm. The easy pressure of Qui-Gon’s breath at his back, the protective limb across his chest pulling him in and holding tight for a moment before relaxing—this comfort, this sense of safety was not one he’d had the chance to feel in long years.
In the Temple, the nightmares eased in Qui-Gon’s quarters, which still felt more like home than his assigned rooms. He ended up on that couch more often than not, and when he did cry out in his sleep—after missions gone horribly or with visions creeping into his dreams—Qui-Gon was there, running his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair and whispering comforts.
Here, though, the entire compound was saturated with a feeling of unease, and it leached into the surrounding woods. They’d wandered off as far as they’d dared, set up a campsite, but apparently not far enough. Obi-Wan’s dream had so unsettled him that his heart still beat rapidly in his chest. After a few moments, as the adrenaline drained away, he felt cold and a fine tremor ran through his body.
Behind him, Qui-Gon sighed deeply. “I think we’ll be awake for some time yet, Obi-Wan. Come on, up—let me stir the fire.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t help a faint, shiver-broken chuckle as he shifted to sit alongside his Master, pulling one of the blankets around his shoulders. “Staying awake with the nightmare-plagued Padawan again. Between Anakin and myself, it’s a wonder you’ve gotten any sleep in the last few years.”
“Sleep is something of a privilege rarely afforded to Masters with Padawans,” Qui-Gon informed him, the fond smile he threw over his shoulder warming Obi-Wan better than the struggling campfire.
Qui-Gon finally moved back to their nest of blankets, shifting until he sat shoulder to shoulder with the Knight. “I never meant to take on another Padawan,” he mused softly.
The remark that caught Obi-Wan entirely by surprise. “Qui-Gon?”
His former Master turned half-amused, half-regretful blue eyes on him and studied him calmly. “Certainly not Anakin.”
Obi-Wan tried to shake off the confusion he felt. “But—a nine-year-old boy, never trained to control his emotions, and so strong in the Force—he could put out a sun if he thought about it hard enough. We couldn't just ignore him.”
“Yes.” Qui-Gon looked back at the fire in the centre of their camp, flickering and popping loudly in the gaps between speech. He was seized with a sudden melancholy. “The Council displayed an unusual lack of common sense.”
Obi-Wan snorted. “Not so unusual, these days.”
Qui-Gon’s smile was a fleeting thing. “It was a desperate bluff, claiming Anakin as my Padawan.”
He felt Obi-Wan go very still against him, so he pressed on quickly before his agitation could choke him. And his profound shame, too, for the desperation that had coloured his bid to secure Anakin’s future.
“I hoped either Mace or Yoda, or maybe Plo, might dismiss my claim, and take on Anakin themselves.” He sighed and disturbed the blankets in a small ruffle, reaching up to drag his hands over his face. “Worked like a charm,” he added, with humourless laugh. Qui-Gon was not bitter, not in the least.
His former Padawan was staring at him, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure he wanted to know what the expression on his face held.
“I thought you—" Obi-Wan broke off with a slight cough. “You were bluffing?”
Qui-Gon glanced up at last, startled by the disbelief in the exclamation—and more, by some unnamed emotion caught behind tight shields that threatened to wrench itself out of Obi-Wan’s grasp. It almost felt like an old injury pulling at his attention again.
Obi-Wan was grappling with the elder Master’s admission and finding it rather difficult to contend with. “That was not the time, Qui-Gon!” he sputtered at last.
“There was no time, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly. “The Council refused to accept Anakin outright, which was completely ridiculous—as though an untrained Force Sensitive of his potential could be any less dangerous than a Sith. I needed them to agree, at least to not turn him away.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to warn you. I didn’t think—couldn't imagine—it would come to that. And I would have explained, afterward, but then—"
Then Naboo. That silent, strained trip through hyperspace, the careful way in which Master and Padawan had avoided each other. Qui-Gon’s features twisted with regret.
“Anakin was a joy to teach, and when you vanished he was the only one left to ground me in reality. It wasn't an easy time for us,” he added with a wry, strained attempt at a smile. “Thank all the little gods we found you, you helped us through so much.”
Obi-Wan shook his head, turned back to stare at the flames again. “Can't say I gave you a chance to say anything.”
Those beautiful blue-green eyes turned inward thoughtfully, and Obi-Wan absently bit at his lip. Then, apropos of nothing he said, “I wanted to ask you if we could remain partnered after my Knighting.”
Qui-Gon shifted in surprise. “Why didn't you?” He watched as the younger man looked away and his shoulders twitched in an aborted shrug, clearly fighting with himself. “Please, Obi-Wan, don't be afraid to tell me.” The flicker of a pained glance in his direction was enough to cause a physical twinge in him, and the silence weighed heavily on Qui-Gon’s mind.
“I thought you didn't want me,” Obi-Wan said at last, quietly. A barely audible hitch in breath escaped Qui-Gon’s control. “Though if truth be told, I was very grateful you weren’t with me on that mission. Nak was—hm. ‘Frustrating’ doesn’t begin to cover that level of Sith hells.”
Qui-Gon scoffed. “My Obi-Wan, better with you to all Sith hells than ever without you. I don't—" he hesitated a moment. “You thought I wouldn't want you?”
The younger Knight curled into himself, feeling small under the weight of that intent gaze. “I didn't realise you were bluffing. You told them I was ready for my Trials, but I didn't feel ready.”
At Qui-Gon's continued silence, Obi-Wan finally dragged his eyes up to meet his former Master's gaze, heart almost shuddering to a stop at the expression he saw there.
“You were long ready, Obi-Wan,” he said solemnly. “I, on the other hand, had done you a great disservice. I trusted you with every mission, and you’d long since been carrying the responsibilities of a Knight, but I thought—I thought I could protect you. I thought I would not lose you if I kept you close.” His attempt at a self-deprecating chuckle sounded pitifully broken even to him. “I didn't realise you'd think of my recommendation for you Trials as a dismissal. But then, how could you not? It was abrupt, presented completely without finesse.”
Qui-Gon broke off and closed his eyes, dragged in a shuddering breath and held it for a count of seven. “We didn't have the finest of beginnings. Old fool that I am, I thought the last few years with our rhythm, our partnership, our bond and the strength that it had—”
“You shut me out, I didn't know what to think.” Obi-Wan shrugged, without a tinge of bitterness.
“Ah.” Obi-Wan glanced up, saw Qui-Gon flinch. “That was—forgive me—"
Obi-Wan watched his former Master stutter to a halt with every false start. Here was a man usually so eloquent, always one to use words to their greatest effect, now incapable of saying something that must have weighed heavily on his mind for a long time.
He reached out and rested a hand over the other man’s, tracing delicate circles over smooth, soft skin. “Qui-Gon?”
“Obi-Wan.” Deep blue eyes opened, gaze intense, and locked with Obi-Wan’s. “There is not a single thing you could ever do that would have made me deny you as my apprentice then, nor now as my Knight-partner and friend.”
“Then why did you block the training bond?”
Qui-Gon winced, but he didn’t look away. “Your nightmares, Obi-Wan.”
“The visions?” Obi-Wan pulled back, surprised. “I—they bled through?”
Qui-Gon shook his head. “Only once, when you were still too afraid of losing your place at my side to tell me what they were. I sat with you that night.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “I remember.”
“I was always aware of them, even when I did not see them. I remembered them, and I could always tell when they started again. As they did before Naboo.”
The look of frank astonishment on Obi-Wan’s features melted into an aggrieved smile. “You always tell me to live in the moment, and yet that time you chose to listen to visions? What exactly were you thinking of when you blocked me out? What is it that you finally listened to?”
It was some time before Qui-Gon could answer that. His body betrayed him even as his mind tried, needed to get the words out. His throat constricted, refused to give way for any more than a tight pained sound. He let his head fall back, face upturned to the starry sky but eyes unseeing. The stars blurred, distant pinpoints washing out into silvery spots.
“From the moment I faced the Zabrak on Tatooine, I knew what your visions were trying to tell you.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath. Obi-Wan froze, muscles iron-tense all along Qui-Gon’s side, but his voice, when he spoke, was low and wrought of perfect calm. “The figure in black and red.”
“I could barely hold my own against him then, I knew I couldn’t hold him alone on Naboo. Maybe just long enough to weaken him, long enough to let you finish the fight and guarantee your survival.”
Silence. The Force, somewhere, roiled with emotions, but those emotions were all Qui-Gon’s. Obi-Wan hid himself away so well under his shields, Qui-Gon couldn’t sense even a whisper of what he must have felt. He’d imagined anger, which he well deserved. He’d imagined grief, even. But of all the things he might have expected, he’d never even imagined this death-still, accepting calm. A sudden intense pain flared in his chest, a depth of fear and loss he could not even begin to fathom, and he nearly curled into it.
And as if that were the sign for him to let go, Obi-Wan all but exploded. “Dammit, Qui-Gon! What did you always tell me? ‘Live in the Moment, Padawan, the future is always in motion, focus on the here and now’. And then you go and run ahead to face that thing alone. I thought I wasn’t good enough to fight at your side, that I’d failed you, lost your trust. You knew it would kill you, and you thought that would be better than—"
“Better than watching you die, Obi-Wan.”
The quiet words brought him up short, it seemed. Again, Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what to think, but at least the air between them wasn’t frozen still in total impassivity.
He drew a shaky sigh and turned his head away. “Three years later, you still hadn’t returned from a mission that had gone badly sideways, and I was forced to face my greatest fear anyway.”
For a long moment there was nothing but quiet again. He thought Obi-Wan might have dozed off, letting the confession hover over them like the heavy weight it had been all these years. What was a few more hours, anyway, before Obi-Wan was driven from the warmth of their nest of blankets by the morning light—before they never spoke of this again?
Then Qui-Gon hissed, startled, as a cold nose found its way into the join of neck and shoulder, and icy hands burrowed into his robes. “Obi-Wan?” he rasped, bewildered.
Hot tears on his skin, against his cheek, silent shudders wracking the body that pressed close to him. Qui-Gon let out a quiet keening noise at the feeling that wound itself around his chest and squeezed, and pulled Obi-Wan closer, wrapping his arms tightly around the quivering body, one hand sliding up into the copper hair and tightening on the nape of his neck.
It might have been an hour later, drifting on the edge of sleep, swollen, aching eyes soothed by the night cold, that he just barely heard Obi-Wan’s vehement whisper, “Don’t ever do that again, Qui. Promise me.”
Qui? he thought, the smallest smile twitching at his lips. “I promise,” he whispered, solemn.
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sl-walker · 7 years
Text
I am just pickled enough to do this.  So, let’s do this.
The AU that no one could ever have imagined before I made the mistake...
... the awesome mistake...
...the decision to write SioF.
So, it goes like this.
The Republic has a problem with understanding the requirements of juvenile offenders, which is why they keep somehow ending up in the general prison population instead of, you know, in a juvie rehab facility.  (Lookin’ at you, Boba, you poor little duck.)  Sometime around the age of thirteen, fourteen, they ended up with this half-zabrak who killed three guys in a highly illegal gladiatorial combat ring, but instead of doing the thing that would make sense, like maybe treating the kid with decency, they pretty much just throw him in prison.
There is actually some surprising interest in this nobody nightbrother teenager; the senator of Naboo, for instance, petitions for his release, but that doesn’t matter because he ends up killed in a mysterious airspeeder accident.  Hego Demask pointedly does not show an interest.
The kid survives half a dozen assassination attempts, and ends up maiming the inmates who tried, never mind causing some real damage to a guard or two.  By now, the Republic is probably never, ever going to let him go.  Luckily for them, a new breakthrough by an independent laboratory funded by the IBC has come up with a way to paralyze the midichlorians of Force users for a time and has given the drug to the Republic-- for a price.  Hey, research isn’t cheap!  The Jedi are really very pissed off about this, in a perfectly peaceful, serene and acceptable manner, but that cat’s out of the bag.
(We won’t talk about how Plagueis totally would direct a laboratory to release this and still make a damned profit on it, all at the same time.)
Speaking of the Jedi, it had been a Jedi observer who figured out that the kid who got convicted of killing people was Force sensitive, but despite their petition for custody, they were turned down.  Who knew what would have happened, but the Republic wasn’t willing to let him go.
So, a couple to few years pass.  Cut off from the Force, Maul gets rather subdued and despondent; he’s still more than capable of defending himself, but he has heard nothing from his Master, has no access to the senses he was born with and has relied on his whole life.  He basically marks time, but he doesn’t even really think about escape after awhile, because the reality of it sinks in: Where would he even go?  He’s horribly equipped to deal with the world, the only experience he has with interacting with it is Orsis, and let’s face it, there’s a difference between interacting with mercenary cadets and the public.
It’s a pretty miserable situation, basically.  Depression would be putting it mildly.  He might not even exist, in any real sense of the word.
Meanwhile, though, there’s a bill being floated by Bail Antilles, on the urging of any number of civilized systems, to improve prison conditions in the Republic.  It’s purely happenstance (unless it’s the will of the Force, but let’s not get too flighty) that Bail Organa is on Coruscant -- he’s on the board of directors for three different charities and that involves travelling sometimes for various functions -- and that he’s visiting the Senator of Alderaan at a time when he ends up invited on the tour of the facilities.
Not too surprisingly, since this is my AU, he does catch a glance of the teenager hanging around the general population and, not shockingly, gets curious enough to ask questions.  Because Bail’s definitely not the kind of guy to just let things go.  He doesn’t get much, at first, but even though he’s not even thirty yet, he’s been raised as the heir to a major player house on Alderaan and indeed, in the Republic, so he definitely has his connections and so he’s able to get a bunch of information even the Jedi couldn’t.
This takes months.  His eventual petitioning for Maul’s parole takes several more.  But Bail is persistent, from a powerful family, from a rich family, so eventually he gets what he wants, which is a paroled half-zabrak.
Maul has literally no idea what the hell is going on.
No, really.  This is out of the blue for him.  He was fully expecting to spend the rest of what was shaping up to be a very short life in prison, all connection to the Force numbed, until someone managed to off him.  He does not expect probation.  And who is this really unnecessarily large human who won it for him.  And why?
But this is how Maul ends up on Alderaan.  Lost isn’t even the word for it; is there a stronger word than lost?  Because whatever word that is, that might come within a few parsecs.  Maybe.
He gets his sense of the Force back, but he’s become so accustomed to doing without that he doesn’t feel anything about the return of it; not triumph, not hope, not anything.
He really has no idea how to live outside of someone else’s control.  Prison had just made that worse, so while he has plenty of opportunity to run away, it just-- doesn’t happen.  Again, where would he even go?  What good would it do him?  He’s a weapon, and a highly-specialized one, at that.  Beyond that fact, though, he’s been so adrift for years now, so shut-down, that he’s more like a walking ghost than a person.  Because if Mustafar was bad, if Orsis was structured, prison-- prison was devastatingly numbing and empty.
This does not get better quickly, either.  He just keeps marking time, waiting to go back to prison, or for his master to reclaim him, or for direction.  Something.
Meanwhile, House Organa isn’t one hundred percent thrilled with their prodigal son, given they have this convict under their roof and protection, but it’s a mixed bag and frankly, Alderaan has a very long history of taking in refugees and those who have no home.  And Bail has more than enough force of personality to keep Maul around, even if he serves no purpose at all, except to haunt the grounds like the ghost he is.
That isn’t to say Bail doesn’t care.  But while he holds a degree in political science and has been involved in some form of public service since before he even has memory, he’s never in his life had to actually rehabilitate anyone.  He’s out of his depth, so he mostly just tries to muddle through it; once a day or so, he goes and asks Maul how he is, how he’s doing, and sits with him for awhile even when it seems to make no difference.
One hundred percent of the time, he doesn’t get an answer.  Only about thirty percent of the time does he even get eye contact.
Bail might not know what he’s doing, but he doesn’t give up.  And honestly, he’s prepared for the idea that House Organa might just end up playing host to a specter forever; even then, Bail is pretty sure it beats prison.
The first thing Maul says -- literally the first thing he says, he’s been silent for months and months -- when Bail one day asks him how he is, is “I don’t know.”  It’s just barely above a whisper.  And this poor kid hasn’t even heard his adult voice yet; this is the first time.
Later, though, he remembers the day with shocking clarity; they are on the estate, near the stream running through the heart of it hard and fast; it’s summer and the sky is bright and clear, and it smells good here, clean and alive and since he has gotten his Force senses back, he can feel the echoes of generations of this family on this property; of their loves and sorrows and hopes and fears.  Of course, he isn’t a part of it, but maybe that’s why he says anything.
The second thing he asks is, “Why am I here?”
The third thing he asks is, “What am I here for?”
Bail has no good answers, but he takes each word as some kind of gift.  Somewhere along the line, he got invested.  He has no good answers, because really, Maul isn’t here for anything.  But despite not having any good answers, or even any answers at all, he cares a hell of a lot.
Once their ghost becomes a little less of a ghost, they get him a tutor; he’s shockingly well educated, but there are also shocking gaps in that education.  Maul, on the other hand, is a rather diligent student because this, at least, is something he can understand.
The first time he goes from being a ghost to being alive, present, he gives Bail one helluva black eye.  The panic attack seems to blow in out of nowhere like a storm; one minute that mostly numb calm, the next the floodgates open, and he’s properly in his skin, and it’s more than he can cope with.  Bail just reaches out to offer a bracing hand on the shoulder and gets hit so hard he ends up on his back, clutching his face.  Maul doesn’t know what set him off, but he never wants to feel that way again.
However, this is the first panic attack, but nowhere near the last.
In between, there is a lot of pacing.  Maul does run once; something in his head snaps and he makes for the spaceport.  But the same problem he had before is still there: Where would he even go?
There’s another problem, too, though: There’s this unnecessarily large human who cares about him and who has never tried to hold him prisoner -- indeed, has gone to great lengths to get him out of prison -- and if there is one thing that Maul has never had before but has always wanted, deep in the core of himself, it was for someone, anyone, to believe in him.  And Bail does.
He goes back and that is the first and the last time he tries to bolt.
It’s also the first real choice he has ever made as an adult.
That does change things.  He engages more, if slowly and haltingly.  He still panics, still loses all orientation, still lashes out in that state despite not meaning to.  After he ends up giving poor Bail a concussion, he decides it’s time to train the man in self-defense.  Because while Bail learned very quickly to back away, the man still refuses to outright leave Maul alone in such a state, and the only way he won’t be a target will be if he can prevent himself from being a victim.
Bail doesn’t like Maul’s reasoning, but self-defense is useful in its own right.  He’s not entirely lacking in grace, but he grew incredibly fast and spent a few years as a genuine clutz, and even just past thirty, he still doesn’t always feel perfectly comfortable in his own skin.
Maul, though, is a shockingly good teacher.  In his element, he is confident and calm and skilled and he’s also incredibly patient.  It’s something even he didn’t expect to be, but it’s a comfortable fit.  
(He also ends up teaching more rudimentary self defense to Bail’s three sisters, but he isn’t sure they’re actually there to learn it.)
The years pass; by the time he is twenty, he is three years past the age of majority on Alderaan and has been declared rehabilitated by an independent Republic observer.  For the first time, he’s free, but he still stays with House Organa.  By now, he is firmly one of them, even if not officially speaking; this is his home, and he knows every inch of this estate, and he would defend it with his life.
It’s before this that he discovers an unexpected talent, though: He can make Bail Organa laugh.  Maul doesn’t even mean to, at first; it’s an accident, a matter-of-fact observation of a particularly stodgy dignitary visiting, and he’s actually startled when Bail starts laughing, hard enough to redden his face and make him wipe his eyes.
This rapidly becomes one of the top five things Maul enjoys in life.
He hones his wit like he would a blade; it comes naturally and really, all Maul needs to learn is the timing, to hit the exact moment he needs to, in order to have Bail curling around his own ribs.  He first learns to really laugh himself because he learns how to make Bail laugh.
Bail is observant.  But he doesn’t notice the way Maul starts watching him.  By now, they are not quite kin, but they are close; they are at least deeply friends, if in a nonstandard way.  For Bail, friendship is easy; for Maul, it is more like devotion.  Because while Bail has steadfastly refused to name what he’s for, Maul has learned how to make some decisions and Bail is one of them.
When he is twenty -- free and as close to okay as he has ever been in his relatively short life -- he sweeps Bail to the mat and pins him there, and there is nothing unintentional about this.  Bail -- who is usually steady, a solid sort of presence to the occasional firestorm Maul can be -- must sense some of the tenor of this; his dark eyes are wide and his heart is hammering so hard that Maul can feel the beat of it against his palms, where his hands are wrapped tight, but not bruising, around Bail’s wrists.
It’s such a strange feeling; it is predatory, but not.  And tender, too, in a way.  It’s a rush of heat and the urge to bite and the urge to soothe, all at once.  It’s not the first time Maul’s ever felt this, about this man, but it’s easily the strongest.
To Bail, this has never really crossed his mind; he hasn’t failed to notice how striking Maul is, because honestly anyone with eyes could notice that, but the thought of something other than friendship just hasn’t occurred.  There is thirteen years of age between them and while Bail has certainly been involved with people before, he has always known ultimately that he would marry for his House and that his life is one of service.  But he isn’t just pinned bodily, but by the intensity staring back at him, vivid gold and calculating, but so filled with adoration that it almost aches to be on the other side of it.
Maul asks, “Do you want me to let go?”
And Bail, at a whisper, shaken and feeling the whole world as he knows it shift invisibly under the foundations of his life, answers, “I don’t know.”
It’s an honest answer.  The best kind of answer is an honest one.  The desire doesn’t go away, and there’s nothing in Maul which hesitates, but the rush of warmth and softness is a real thing, and this is the first time he has ever kissed anyone.  He only has observation and want to go on, no practice or skill, but--
But it’s enough.
There’s more, obviously.  Like how that plays out.  And Breha.  And life.  But.  XD  I am pretty damn drunk by now -- forgive the typos -- so have one of the most unlikely pairings in SW and why I think it’d work out. XD  To start.
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ohmytheon · 7 years
Note
Rebelcaptain - Jedi Knights AU (bonus points if at the end of ROTS and Order 66)
I rewatched the Order 66 scene so I could get a feel for this and wow okay my hormones are in a swing because somehow a three minute clip from ROTS that didn’t involve Obi-Wan made me cry. Yoda’s pain via the Force GOT ME. It reminded me of Leia’s in TFA. Also, this got way out of my hands, but the next ones will be drabble size again, I swear.
give me a pairing and an au and i’ll write a drabble
Out of the two of them, Cassian was the wary one, always looking for the first sign of trouble, but it was Jyn that felt it first. She was split up from him this time, something that she probably shouldn’t be prone to doing since she was still very new to being a Jedi Master, but she had wanted to do a perimeter check. Besides, it wasn’t like she was alone. She had two trusted Clone soldiers with her, Looper and Green, men she had worked alongside on multiple missions.
Her boots thumped with every step on the platform, but when she neared the edge, the only sound she could hear was the wind. Nothing. Still, an easy feeling in her gut kept stirring, even larger now that her suspicions had been unconfirmed, and she reached up to grasp the kyber crystal her mother had given her before Jyn had been taken to become a Padawan. The crystal could’ve been put to much better use, as she had one now in the lightsaber she carried, but it was an old relic of her past that she refused to give up despite the Council’s wishes.
It reminded her that even Jedi were fallible – that even those who were considered not Force sensitive enough, not strong enough, to be considered for Jedi training could overcome everything. She had hid the kyber necklace for so long until Cassian found it. He had not berated her for it at least. The memory of the soft look in his eyes when he had tucked it back under the neckline of her shirt had to kept just as much of a secret as the crystal itself.
Closing her eyes, Jyn took a deep breath and focused on both the Force and the crystal until she could sense everything around her. She could feel the Clones behind her waiting for the next order and then, probing further, Cassian back inside. She thought he was looking out the window, trying to see her through the snow, and then she tangled with him as well. He was trying to sense her too. It made her smile faintly. Always wary, that one. Was he ever not restless?
Something sharp in the Force hit her, not unlike a blaster, and Jyn’s eyes snapped open as she felt something ripped away from her. No, it had been a blaster, but she hadn’t been the one hit. Who? Cassian? She struggled to find him again, but everything was a mess now. The Force felt like it was…like it was being ripped apart thread-by-thread. She gasped.
If her eyes had still been closed, she wouldn’t have noticed the sudden change in stance of the clones behind her, but out of the corner of her eyes she saw Looper raise his blaster towards her and she reacted quickly. The lightsaber was ready and in her hands in a second and she slashed it forward, slicing the blaster in half and rendering it useless.
“What are you–?” But there was no time to demand answers, not when she had to deflect a blaster shot from Green. She didn’t want to hurt them, much less kill them – she had worked with them so many times, joked with them, laughed with them, ate with them – but they left her no choice as they ruthlessly tried to attack her.
Jyn cut them down with ease, but her heart ached. They had only been clones, yes, but they had been her friends. Why had they suddenly turned against her?
And then another thought: Cassian. If Looper and Green had tried to kill her, what about all the other clones back inside? This was supposed to be a comfortable safe house for diplomats, but she suddenly pictured a blood house instead and her fears betrayed her. She had been taught to dampen those fears and put them away – passion led to dark paths, they were told – but she could not burn them to ashes so easily, not anymore.
Jyn raced back inside and all but burst through the door. She knew exactly where Cassian was and the quickest way to reach him. It would be dangerous, filled with possibly turned clones, but she had always had a habit of coming in hot and doing things straight on. She had to reach him; she had to get to him before it was too late. Otherwise, what was the point? Where would be the hope that all of this would end?
After reaching the hall that would lead her to him, her heart leapt into her throat as she skidded to a halt. There were at least ten clones blasting at the door to the main quarters until a hole large enough for them to climb through was made. Inside was Cassian, doing his best to block each blaster shot while anyone else with him tried to stay out of sight. Any other person might’ve tried to find a different way. Not Jyn. She ran straight ahead, her lightsaber cutting through the clones before they even realized she’d come upon them.
Ten against one was still a battle and she couldn’t cover all angles, so when a blaster hit her in the back of the shoulder, she yelped as she was thrown into a wall. Before she could be taken out, however, the familiar glow of a lightsaber stabbed through the middle of the clone and he collapsed dead to the ground.
“Come!” Cassian shouted breathlessly, holding out a hand. Jyn took it without thinking and allowed him to pull her through the hallways. She had no idea where he was going, but she didn’t ask questions.
“The diplomats?” Jyn asked the moment they paused.
Cassian peered around the corner. The hangar door was right in front of them, guarded by turned clones. If they had any hope of fleeing, it was in there with their ship, which was the closest thing to home that Jyn could imagine. What if it had been sabotaged in case they made it this far? No, no, the clones had turned so suddenly. They couldn’t have planned that ahead. She and Cassian shouldn’t be alive right now.
Taking a breath, Cassian pulled back and leaned against the wall. He had let go of her hand, but she yearned for him to take it again. It was a terrible thing to want, but so very human. Jedi were not so far removed, were they? "Safe, as long as we keep our distance from them. The clones only seem focused on Jedi.“
"How is that possible?” Jyn hissed furiously. She thought of the times that she had gone to the shooting range to help Green out and now he was lying dead on the platform at her hands, his body slowly getting covered with snow.
“I do not know,” Cassian replied grimly, “but they are very determined.”
Jyn went silent. They needed to get on that ship. Who knew how many clones were in the hangar. The suddenly very real fear that she would die struck her. She was not afraid of death itself. As a Jedi, she would be come one with the Force; she would live on through it. But then she looked at Cassian – the tightly-coiled tension in his body, his fingers flexing on the handle of his lightsaber, the scruff on his jaw and cheeks that he’d forgotten to shave, the sharp look in his eyes that saw everything – and she was afraid of something.
Fear led to a dark path that she could not go down, but it also felt unwise to dismiss it outright. Then again, a few on the Jedi Council might argue that Jyn had a habit of doing a lot of unwise things. She wondered if any of them were still alive to tell her that.
There was no time to question it further. Cassian touched the inside of her wrist and then they were off, battling their way into the hanger and towards their ship. A spark of relief lit inside of her when she saw it, but then she was ducking and sliding and twisting around as she deflected blaster shot after shot. She and Cassian were able to work together, protecting the other’s back while guarding their own front.
It did not make them invincible. A blaster grazed her side, sucking the wind out of her, and one caught Cassian right above the knee, knocking him down. He was almost cut down, except Jyn threw out a hand at the last second blindly and shouted, “Cassian!” The clone was blown off his feet by the Force, crashing into three others, and gave them an opening. Jyn went to help him up, leaving him to cringe, but she cut him off before he could even protest, “I’m not leaving you.”
She half-carried, half-dragged him into the ship, unceremoniously dropping him so that she could deflect another blaster shot and hit the button to close the ship’s door. By the time she turned around, Cassian was already in the pilot’s chair, activating the ship. She listened to it come to life, humming under her feet, whirring around her, but her heart was beating almost just as loudly. Blaster shots kept hitting the ship until Cassian was able to return fire, nearly blowing up half the hanger with his superior firepower.
“I thought that was my move,” Jyn mumbled as she stood behind him to assess the damage. Most of the clones that had been left were now either unmoving or struggling to get up. Cassian’s knuckles were white and his face determined as he guided the ship up and then out of the hanger as quickly as possible. It would not be long before other ships were sent after them, so they needed to get out of here as fast as possible.
She had no idea where they would go (where in the galaxy would be safe for a Jedi that was now being hunted like a dog?), but she trusted Cassian. He was an excellent and natural pilot alongside being one of the most capable Jedi Knights. Instead, she closed her eyes, grasping the kyber crystal again and listening to him activate the hyperdrive, and willed everything into the Force. It would not betray her. Cassian would not betray her. As long as she had them, she would be fine, she told herself. The ship rocked as they made the jump, but she barely swayed on her feet despite holding onto nothing.
Only when she felt a hand wrapping over her own holding the crystal did Jyn open her eyes and she found Cassian staring down at her solemnly. It had been a very long time since she had felt alone, especially after crossing paths with him, but here on this ship, drifting somewhere in the blackness of space, she felt very much alone. The Force was silent, frayed, and distant. She could feel the emptiness that had once been occupied by so many others.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Cassian whispered, even though they were safe for now and completely alone.
Jyn felt adrift, like the ship, completely untethered. The emptiness was as vast as space. “They’re gone.” Her voice was hollow. She didn’t know what she was saying, except that she did. A few lights reminded, blips on the outskirt of her radar, but she could barely sense them. Some winked out so suddenly that her knees buckled. She would’ve collapsed had Cassian not caught her. She clung to him and he let her, maybe needing it as well. “Gone.”
Cassian slowly gathered her back to her feet, but he did not push away, not like he should have. Jedi were not to gain attachments, at least not close ones. Some had been wary of the two of them partnering, but most of the higher-ups on the Jedi Council had believed that Cassian’s unwavering belief in the Force and the way of the Jedi would eventually smooth out Jyn’s edges. They had not counted on the two of them fitting together.
He held her against him, one arm wrapped around her securely as he smoothed down her hair with his other hand. She breathed in his familiar scent as she tried to regain her balance, but there was so much gone, like the rug had been pulled out from underneath her feet. Her mother had not been Force sensitive enough to become a Jedi, but Jyn, her daughter, sometimes felt like she was too sensitive.
“Where will be go?” Jyn asked quietly.
“Somewhere we can hide,” Cassian told her. “We must gather information and regroup before we can do anything.”
Jyn scoffed lightly, but she didn’t pull away. “I hate hiding. It feels so… helpless." She bit her lip and moved her head to lift her gaze to him. He moved his hand from the back of her head to her shoulder. "We’re on the run. Did you ever think that would happen?”
His lips quirked into a faint but pained smile. “Not entirely like this.”
Not know what to do with his answer, Jyn looked away and out the front of the ship. Her eyes caught sight of the stars, all of them distant but so dark. She used to think that stars could never die, back when she was a child, before she had been taken away from her family. “How many do you think are left?”
“I don’t know.” Cassian sighed, the smile gone so quickly it was like it was never there. He released her from his grip, but he didn’t leave her. “Not many.” He glanced down at her the same time she looked back up at him. “But you’re here. When the clones turned, I didn’t know what to do. I shut the doors, trying to protect the diplomats, but then realized I’d locked you out there with them. I was…”
He was afraid. Cassian was not as quick to admit his emotions as readily as Jyn was. Before her, he had been an excellent Jedi, a proper example. Perhaps she had ruined him. He never seemed to regret joining her though. She could feel his confidence in her thrumming through him, strong as ever, and it comforted her. At least he was here. She looked back out at the stars. But for how long would they be able to run and hide before their stars were too snuffed out? The answers were just as distant. Her heart began to burn like a supernova. Whatever had happened, she would fight until her last breath.
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